


The Truest Slytherin

by WoodedWhiskey



Category: Carol (2015), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodedWhiskey/pseuds/WoodedWhiskey
Summary: The Carol/Harry Potter crossover literally nobody asked for or needed.Therese is a quiet 5th year Slytherin student, keeping her head down since the return of the Dark Lord.While the house of Slytherin is facing some of its darkest days, so is the rest of the wizarding world...
Relationships: Carol Aird/Harge Aird, Carol Aird/Therese Belivet
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my head for a while, so I thought I'd post it in case anyone is interested.
> 
> I don't have a lot of experience of sharing things here, so any feedback would be really appreciated :)
> 
> Therese is the year below Harry Potter - so this will align with the events of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince onwards

The Slytherin common room was dark and the crisp winter air was drafting through the dungeons by the time Therese considered retreating to her dorm. The warmth from the fireplace had burned until only the soft glow of remaining embers was left to cast its dim light throughout the room. She was alone, which wasn’t unusual for the late hour. Winter exams began the next morning, so most students had run themselves ragged with late nights and early mornings filled with study. Therese was filled with anxiety at the thought exams, the first of which was tomorrow.

It had been a tough year for most students, emotionally and intellectually. Between Umbridge attempting to sack half of the professors the previous year, and the Dark Lord's return, the Hogwarts education system had truly been pushed to its limits. The usual rowdiness of the corridors had been replaced with unease and whispers of the goings-on outside of the school, from both faculty and the student body.

Most professors had introduced a double-up of practical and theoretical mid-year testing in an attempt to play catch up, only adding to the pressure everyone was under. She was to complete a practical assessment in addition to a theoretical examination for most of her subjects, scheduled to take a full day, dependent on performance of course. They had been told the assessment timings were flexible, depending on how much time was needed for completion. The theory was to be finished within an hour. No exceptions.

She was just lucky it was her OWLS this year. The seventh years preparing for their NEWTS were nearly taking turns going to Madam Pomfrey with stress-related illnesses.

“Still up, Belivet? If you aren’t prepared at this stage you may as well get some sleep.” 

Therese jumped at the deep drawling voice, cursing herself for not hearing anyone enter the common room. She turned in her armchair to find Professor Snape looming over her. 

“Don’t seem so surprised, I know what every student of this house is doing every moment of every day. Off to bed with you, and if I catch you out of it again after hours you won’t find me so lenient.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry,” she managed to say. 

He waved his cloaked hand towards the dormitories and waited while Therese hurriedly gathered her things and took off towards her bed. She understood immediately that he knew the number of nights she spent on that armchair, reading or writing, or at times, just sleeping. 

She ran barefoot up the smooth marble steps, threw open the doors leading to the girls' dormitories, and continued until she was forced to sneak past her sleeping peers. Therese softly placed her books in her bedside drawer and lay on her bed, pulling the silk bed covers over herself to block out the freezing chill of the night.

She shut her eyes tight, willing away the fears over what the following days would bring. She breathed deeply, focusing on the sounds around her until she slowly fell into a restless sleep.

*

After a long week of exams, all of which Therese knew she had barely muddled through, she found herself in the Great Hall for the Christmas feast. The Hall was noisy with the constant roar of excited children. Schooling had finished for the term and the students were excited at the prospect of a break and visiting family for the holidays. Most students that is. The Slytherin house was more subdued. Therese knew most of her housemates were affiliated with the Dark Lord, and while there was excitement at the prospects of a future with their new leader, students were aware that they were returning home to a different sort of Christmas break.

“Why don’t you budge up a seat and actually join your housemates for once?” 

“I don’t know why you keep trying with that one, Richard. The girl is a mute.” 

“Not a mute, just quiet. You know I like a challenge, Malfoy.”

Therese stood up, intending to leave the Great Hall and retreat to the common room when Dumbledore’s voice rose across the sea of students.

“Merry Christmas, one and all.” He boomed, raising his hands, signalling for quiet. The students obeyed at once.

“Congratulations is in order, I say. For each of you has finished what has certainly been a trying semester. For those of you staying with us this Christmas, I look forward to seeing you over the holidays. And for those of you returning to your loved ones, I suggest the utmost caution. The darkness of this world has made itself known. And none of us is impervious to its efforts. Stay close to your families this Christmas, and above all, cherish this time with them. Now. Dig in!”

With a smile and a final wave of his blackened hand, he motioned towards the tables just as platters of food began to appear.

“What’s impervious supposed to mean?” asked Goyle, or Crabbe. She could never tell.

“Shut up, Goyle,” spat Malfoy, reaching stiffly for a plate of roast beef. “It’s not like it matters what the old man says anyway.”

Therese slowly put some meat and vegetables on her plate, trying her best to avoid drawing attention to herself. Her housemates usually preferred to ignore her anyway.

“Oi. Stop hogging the gravy.” 

A cloaked arm came reaching towards her and grabbed the gravy jug from her grasp, spilling a generous dose across the table and onto Malfoy.

“Good one, Goyle, you bloody ape! It’s all over me! Disgusting!”

“Sorry, Malfoy,” said Goyle, suitably chastised.

“You’re always bloody sorry! But one day, Goyle, one day sorry won’t be good enough.”

“It’s only a bit of gravy, mate,” laughed Richard, trying to lighten the mood. “Just add some chicken.”

She caught the quick flash of black cloak before Malfoy's hand hit the table, causing a squeal of shock from some of the first years sitting further up. 

Malfoy said nothing else. Nobody else did either. The remainder of the feast was spent in silence. 

Something that had been the subject of gossip throughout the term had finally come to rest, as those sitting close enough caught a glimpse of an inked serpent peeking out from beneath a gravy stained sleeve.

*

Therese had been home for two days and had seen her father only once. She had fallen asleep, book in hand, and had woken up to a series of crashing sounds from downstairs. 

She grabbed her wand and moved tentatively downstairs. The house was silent now. Only the gentle creaking of the stairs as she crept her way down each step interrupted the night.

She moved closer towards the bottom of the narrow staircase and spotted the body of her father, laying in a lump just steps before the front door. 

Therese went to him immediately, jumping down the final few steps until she reached him. She pulled the cloak from his face, drawing a deep, mournful groan from the man.

She couldn’t help but gasp as she looked upon his face. The handsome, well-groomed features of her father were unrecognisable through the dark bruising misshaping his face. His eyes were swollen shut. His lip was split and his nose was bent, with blood seeping from it, spilling down his cheeks.

“Father,” she whispered, “can you hear me?”

He moaned in response, his arm flopped limply beside him, in what she took for an attempt to raise it.

“We need to get you to St Mungo's.”

Another groan, deeper this time.

“No,” he choked, prompting a coughing fit. She moved him to his side as he spat blood across the floor.

Ignoring him, she ran to the hearth and grabbed a handful of floo powder, throwing it into the fireplace and unceremoniously fell to her knees and shouted into the flames,

“Medi-wizard! We need a medi-wizard!”

“I’ll be right there, darling” Came a woman's voice from beyond the fire.

She felt herself breathe for the first time since she found her father as a woman emerged from the fireplace, equipped with a heavy-looking medical kit.

“This will be him then, will it?” She asked unnecessarily as she moved towards her father.

“Yes, my father. William Belivet.”

“William, my name is Carol. I’m from St Mungos. I’m here to help you.” 

The woman knelt before him, spending a moment merely looking at him before she raised her wand and cast a series of spells that were entirely unfamiliar to Therese.

“Hm… Yes, that would do it.” The woman, Carol, mumbled to herself. She cast another spell and Therese watched her fathers body ooze a deep red glow.

“As I thought,” she sighed. Therese watched the woman raise the arm on her fathers' cloak and expose the angry serpent of the dark mark.

“Easy, girl. This is neither a joke or an attempt at a setup. This magic does not lie.” Carol turned to look at her, sadness overcoming her features.

“Is there anyone else here?” She asked.

“No. Just me.”

“Has anyone been here?”

“No.”

“Has anyone been looking for him?”

“No, ma’am. This is the first time I’ve seen him since I’ve come home.”

“Bloody fool,” the woman said, lowering her head with a sigh.

“Is he going to be alright?” She asked, voice trembling.

“From this? Oh, yes. I’ve reset a few bones and emptied the fluid in his lungs. I suspect this was something of a punishment, so I’ve left the swelling and the bruising, so as not to draw suspicion should anyone come checking up on him.”

Knowing that her father was out of immediate danger allowed her fear to give way to anger.

“How could he do this?” She said, mostly to herself.

“We shall never know what truly dwells within the hearts of men.”

Therese said nothing, just sank to the floor and pulled her knees towards her body in a hug.

“Oh, darling. Is there anyone I can call for you?”

She shook her head. Her father was all she had.

“I thought they were being too nice to me this year. Now I understand. They knew. They knew what he was before I did.”

“Who did, darling?”

“The other Slytherins. They were just tolerating me because of the mark.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is,” she said, “all this time I thought I was doing so well keeping to myself. He’s got his hook into everyone, hasn’t he?”

Therese didn’t realise what she said until it was too late. Words like that are how people end up like her father, or worse.

“Uh, sorry. I just mean -”

“Hush. I know exactly what you mean. Whatever you want to say is safe with me.”

Therese looked at the woman in her entirety. She took in her shoulder-length blonde hair, blue eyes, crinkled at the corners from a small smile, and dimpled cheeks. The woman caught her eye, and it made Therese feel better instantly. 

“I’m sure you need to get back to St Mungo's,” she said, realising the amount of time the woman had spent with her and her father.

“They’ll make do,” she said, stretching her legs across the floor, making herself comfortable.

“How long have you been a Healer?”

“For several years now, I suppose. Although, I only became an EO several months ago.”

“An EO?”

“Oh, my apologies. An EO is an Emergency Operator. One who deploys to emergency incidents. It’s a type of triage function really. I go to the scene and make an assessment, if it’s something I can handle, well, then I handle it. If not, then I request reinforcements.”

“That sounds pretty crazy.”

Therese watched as the woman involuntarily released a deep laugh and she couldn’t help but giggle too. Soon they were both snorting hysterically. Sounds that had become unfamiliar within the cold house.

It took them ages, minutes maybe, to settle.

“Oh. Dear me,” she said, wiping her eyes, “I suppose it is, isn’t it. Crazy, that is. Miss Belivet was it?”

“Yes, ma’am. Therese Belivet,” she answered, still smiling.

“Well, darling. That may have been remarkably unprofessional of me, but I will admit I rather needed that.”

“Me too,” she said, catching sight of her father, still laying on the ground. Her voice sounded small.

Carol reached for her then, gently placing her hand in Therese’s. It was soft and more comforting than she could have imagined. With a final squeeze, Carol sat up and looked at her father.

“I’d best be moving him to a bed. He’ll likely wake up soon,” she said, getting up and taking her wand from her robe pocket. She turned to Therese, “would you mind leading the way?”

“Oh, right. Of course.”

Therese stood and moved towards the staircase, “Just this way.”

Carol raised her wand, wordlessly lifting her father into the air, carefully guiding his sleeping body after Therese.

Therese walked to her fathers' bedroom and opened the door. She was filled with embarrassment upon seeing the state of her fathers' room and hurried in before Carol had reached it, in an attempt to tidy. She couldn’t even see the floor, with clothes and rubbish strewn everywhere.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, darling. No need to worry,” Carol entered the room and guided her father to the bed, with a couple of flicks, he was lowered and comfortably tucked in.

“There. Now, come with me.”

Therese followed Carol back downstairs, where she sat on the sofa and waited for her to join her.

“I suspect your father won’t take too kindly to you calling for help. I would suggest telling him nothing about my presence here.”

Therese nodded, feeling numb.

“Will you be alright?” Carol asked.

Again, she nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Would you like to come to St Mungo's with me, perhaps? I can understand if you don’t want to be alone.”

“I-I’ll be fine,” she managed.

“You are a wonderfully strong young woman, Therese. I hope you know that,” she said, looking intently into Therese’s eyes.

With that, Carol rose and walked towards the fireplace, as she lifted a handful of floo powder Therese found her voice,

“Wait! Carol… I, um… Thank you,” she said at last, “ I don’t know what I would have done tonight if you hadn’t been here.”

Carol smiled at her, and once again, Therese felt comforted. She smiled back, and watched as Carol said, “St Mungos.”

Therese watched as she disappeared into the flames.


	2. Chapter 2

Her father woke up shortly after Carol’s departure. He seemed groggy, but otherwise well. He didn’t talk much and assumed he had put himself to bed, so she had simply agreed with him and left him to rest. She was finding it difficult to spend more time with him than necessary, with the revelation of the dark mark etched into his skin. It was all she could think about.

She considered confronting him outright but was afraid of what she would learn. Therese was aware that her relationship with her father had already changed beyond recognition, she was unsure if it could handle more strain. She wasn’t sure if _she_ could handle it.

Therese wished she had asked Carol for advice before she had left. She seemed like she always knew what to do. Therese felt like she was barely holding herself together, as though her world as she knew it was falling apart. Not even retreating to Hogwarts would help this time. Just picturing the knowing looks from her classmates was enough to draw tears.

It wasn’t often that she journaled, but with her emotions threatening to overcome her, she found herself seeking comfort within the blank pages. For a while, she did nothing but write. Relayed the events of the night, mostly. Which led her to sketching. She was nearly finished by the time she realised she had drawn Carol. Therese knew she was no artist, but was proud of her drawing, seeing that it replicated the woman quite well.

Dawn was rearing its head by the time she put the journal away. A decision had formed itself. As difficult as she knew it was going to be, she was going to confront her father.

*

“Father?”

“Terry?” He groaned.

“How are you feeling?” 

“So tired, Terry,” he cleared his throat. Through the darkness of the room, she could see him trying to sit upright.

“Who did this to you?” She couldn’t help the tremble in her voice.

He brushed her off, “It was just a random attack, Terry. Sheer dumb luck.”

She was silent for a moment.

“For a random attack, they really had it out for you.”

Her father laughed, “It certainly feels like they did.” He sat up further in his bed, hand grasping at his bruised shoulder as though in an effort to stifle pain.

She knew Carol had left the bruising for appearances more than anything. Therese realised that her father shouldn’t be feeling pain. 

“I saw the Dark Mark on your arm.” She said with conviction.

“You don’t know what you saw,” he said, suddenly morphing from her father into a man she hadn’t seen before.

“I-I do. I saw it. There’s no mistaking what it is. The least you can do is talk to me about it.”

“Leave it alone, Therese. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I thought better of you. I kept out of everyone’s way in school, thinking we were different. But we’re not, are we? I’m just like them. Thrown right in the middle of it through my family. Without any regard-”

“You think I had a _choice_? Do you think I didn’t consider you? Therese, honey, it’s time to grow up. There’s a war coming and it’s the one that doesn't have a side that will suffer,” her father got out of bed now, all pretense of aching limbs disappearing as he paced the bedroom.

“Where’s _my_ choice?” 

Her face felt cool to the night air, as she wiped them she noticed her cheeks were wet.

“You’re a child, Therese! You don’t get a choice. It’s my job to make these choices for you. You need to trust me.”

“How can I trust you if you don’t even talk to me, then when I see you you’re all beaten up? Did they do this to you?” She asked, becoming hysterical.

“Enough, Therese.”

“How can you side with them and trust them to protect us when they do _this_ to you?”

“I said _enough_!” He said, his face turning red.

Therese felt her lips trembling as she watched her father. A painful silence pierced the air.

“I think it would be better if you returned to Hogwarts.”

“But father-” she started.

“No. No more, Therese. Go and pack your things.”

Therese ran to her room, sobbing as she hurried to gather her belongings. She shoved books and clothes into her suitcase carelessly, grabbing things that were within her reach. Her gaze caught sight of her journal, and she reached for it, gently placing it in the side compartment of her case.

She sat for a moment, simply focusing on her breathing. When she stood up again she felt ready to go to Hogwarts, no longer wanting to remain in the house. She lifted her suitcase and went downstairs with purpose, not caring about remaining quiet or disturbing her father. She reached the fireplace she paused, looking back towards the stairs. Her fathers’ room remained silent. Therese stood firm, reaching for the floo powder on the mantelpiece. 

“Hogwarts,” she said, stepping into the fireplace. 

She felt the floo network pull her through with a jolt, and watched as her living room drifted from view. Within moments her body was pushed towards a different room, blurry at first, coming into focus quickly as she instinctively took a step forward and found herself in what could only be the Headmaster’s office.

As her foot touched the soft carpet, she felt a wave of nausea as the field of magic directing her vanished. She stumbled forward into a small coffee table.

“Miss Belivet, I’m sorry to say I wasn’t expecting you back quite so soon,” Professor Dumbledore's soft voice helped her focus once more. He was sitting behind a large mahogany desk, half-moon spectacles balancing on the end of his crooked nose.

“Sorry, Professor,” she said, finding herself unprepared, “I thought the floo would take me to the common room.”

“No need to apologise, Miss Belivet. The floo network for the school is directed through the Head office. Of course, not everyone is granted access. The school gives me a small window through which I am able to either approve or deny access. Only few have a direct path to the school in this way,” he explained.

“Oh. I see,” and she did see, she understood then that Dumbledore, as Headmaster of the school and through what could only have been his work against the Dark Lord, suspected something had gone amiss during her short stay at home.

“Well, my father was busy-” she began, in an attempt to explain. Dumbledore raised his hand gently,

“No need to explain, my dear. Hogwarts is home to quite a few of us. It is my duty to see it remain so." He said with a kind smile.

She felt the corners of her lips twitch upwards in response, already feeling her stress begin to subside merely by being within the secure halls of Hogwarts. The darkness never truly entered Hogwarts. She wouldn’t find her father’s shattered form lying in the hallway, at least.

“Now, it is quite fortunate that you have arrived as you have, as I believe the house elves have worked themselves into a substantial frenzy in an effort to cater a Christmas feast to remember. In fact, I doubt I have ever seen the kitchens in such a state.” He mused.

It was then she realised that it was Christmas day.

*

Therese found herself in the Great Hall that afternoon, seated at a long table mixed with both faculty and students. With a quick glance along the immaculately decorated table, she saw students from all houses seated uncomfortably beside one another, eyeing their professors awkwardly. She watched in amusement as Professor Sprout poured a generous helping of butterbeer and was currently taking it upon herself to educate the students within earshot of a particularly festive shrub she was planning on potting.

She took a sip of pumpkin juice just as someone filled the empty seat next to her. 

“Well, this is cosy,” the newcomer said with too much enthusiasm, shifting nervously beside her. “Do you mind?” He asked, pointing towards a jug of juice.

Therese passed it to him with a small smile.

“Say, I don’t recognise you. What house are you in? Gryffindor? Nah, Gryffindor’s make themselves known.” 

“You must be a Hufflepuff.”

“How did you pull that one out?” He asked, pausing mid-pour.

“You mustn't be a Gryffindor, for reasons you’ve already highlighted,” she explained. “You would have known if we were in the same house, and I just have a gut feeling that you aren’t a Ravenclaw.”

He laughed, pumpkin juice spilling in drops on the table. “Whoops,” he said, and Therese watched as the boy waved his wand dramatically.

“Scourgify! There we go. All better!”

“You’ve been practicing, Mr McElroy.” Said Professor McGonagall, her Scottish tongue pronounced.

“A true Christmas miracle!” The boy said, smiling at the Professor.

“Oh, a miracle, was it? And there I was thinking it was your world class education,” Professor McGonagall said, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Well… I suppose the education _might_ have helped,” he said with a grin.

Therese allowed herself to relax, enjoying the camaraderie between student and teacher. If she concentrated enough, she might just manage to push her more troubling thoughts to the recesses of her mind.

“It’s Danny, by the way,” the boy spoke again, “My name, that is.” He looked at her with a lopsided smile on his face, expectantly.

“I’m Therese,” she said, taking a breath before adding, “from Slytherin.”

“Really?” His eyes widened slightly. “Good thing I’m not a gambling man. Would have lost a fortune. I was really getting more of a Ravenclaw vibe if I’m being honest.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“No disappointment to be had!” He exclaimed, then whispered “I mean, unless you’re unable to help me with my Transfiguration assignment. McGonagall even compared me to Longbottom…”

“You’re in luck. While I may not be from the most academic of houses, my Transfiguration is quite good. Potions on the other hand…”

“Look, I’m really not great at Potions either. It’s just that between Snape and then Slug-”

“Relax, Danny. I’ll still help you,” she smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> I should also note that this is a bit of a long story, with nothing happening between Carol or Therese while Therese is so young.
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


End file.
